Casualties
by Zeng Li
Summary: An AllTurks fic! The Turks hunt down a man who took a shot at President Rufus, only to find the man switched identities with an innocent brother.


Casualties  
By: Zeng Li

__

That must be it, thought Tseng. _I died and got reincarnated as a little girl._

His eyes wandered around the room which was ornately decorated with Mylar balloons, flowers, and teddy bears. He lifted his arms, bending his stiff elbows. The hands were adult sized hands, and the familiar faint scar was still streaked along the back of the left one.

His hazy mind finally rationalized that he hadn't woken up in a child's bedroom. _It must be Elena's doing,_ he figured.

A very faint, steady beeping caught his attention, and he realized it had been there all along. As the sedatives continued to wear off, he recognized the place as a hospital room.

A doctor walked in, and Reno was at the man's heels. Reality set in, and Tseng suddenly felt a whole lot worse.

Reno had a rare look of concern on his face, which worried Tseng more. The doctor was silent initially, checking vital sign monitors and I.V.'s.

"How do you feel, sir?" asked the doctor, who was the Turks' personal physician and chief surgeon.

"Weak…" His first word said it best. "Confused…?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

Tseng didn't have the energy to think.

"You have a gunshot wound in your leg. You lost a moderate, yet safe, amount of blood. We surgically removed the bullet and you'll be fine."

Tseng sighed, memory returning. "The president…?"

"Rufus is fine, sir." The doctor turned to Reno, silently conveying that his task was done for now and that the Turk could visit his wounded superior. He left them alone.

Reno pulled the chair up next to the bed and leaned an elbow on the mattress. "My, what a role reversal this is. So how're you doin', Frankenstein?" he asked playfully.

"Where'd it get me?" Tseng tried to sit up to see, as the medication had nullified any pain that his wound would have other wise been screaming about.

"Your thigh. Entrance wound only. They took quiet a big hunk o' metal outta you. Wanna see it?"

"Not particularly."

Reno muttered something. "Well, don'tchya worry. You'll be getting graduated materia therapy. Stitches'll be out tomorrow, and you'll be on your feet the day after and able to resume nightly activities with the lady." Tseng shot him a nasty glare. Even though he'd never said anything to Reno about his one night with Elena, the sly red head somehow figured it out. "Speaking of the lady, she's in the waiting room just dying to throw herself all over you."

Tseng sighed, knowingly unable to put off the inevitable. "Send her in."

Reno turned to walk out but paused. "Oh, and be sure to thank her for all the balloons, flowers, and other circus paraphernalia." Tseng just grunted.

Elena walked in, holding Rude's hand. He let her go and remained at the foot of the bed while she came dangerously close to pouncing right on top of her infatuation. Instead, she sensibly took the seat Reno had recently vacated.

"Tseng, sweetheart…" she said, taking his hand and kissing it then holding it to her chest.

"Hey, Elena…" he smiled crookedly. "Uh…thanks for the cheery décor."

Elena grinned beamingly. "Oh, you like it?"

Careful not to accidentally tell the truth, Tseng said, "Yes."

"Oh, I'm so happy you're okay…"

While Elena smothered just his hand, Tseng looked past her and saw the silent Rude a few paces back. "C'mon over Rude. Don't be shy."

Rude stood his ground. "Sorry, sir. Just making sure Elena was all right."

"What's the matter? Not concerned about me?" Tseng asked with a sly smile.

Rude bowed shallowly. "Forgive me, sir. I am very glad to see that you are well. I can visit later."

"I know…you're just being yourself."

Rude tipped his head and strolled off, leaving Tseng at the mercy of Elena and her over-done cheery décor, somehow afraid that she host a tea party at any moment.

= = = =

Later in the same day, Elena stood alone before Rufus in his office. "I trust Master Tseng is well...?" the president asked.

Elena bowed slightly. "Yes, sir. He is."

"Mmph..." Rufus nodded thoughtfully.

"Sir, he's going to be in the hospital for another day or two. If you want, the Turks can escort you there to see him. You know...so you can say thank you...?"

Rufus turned his gaze to her, one eyebrow propped. "'Thank you?' Why would I need to thank him for doing his job?"

"B-but, Mr. President..."

"Elena, I keep this city running even while I sleep. I enforce the law and keep order; I keep the Mako reactors running for all the citizens of this city, even the slum-dwellers. Has any one of them ever come to me and said, 'Thank you'?" He paused to look at her dumbfounded expression. "No. They don't."

Elena shakily bowed again. "Yes, sir," she said, then left.

Rufus looked out the 70th floor window over looking half the city. The sky was dark as usual, the ground gray. And he was there to see it all because of a loyal Turk who'd taken the bullet for him.

= = = =

Within 24 hours after their leader was shot guarding the president, the Turks' investigation of several leads paid off. They assembled in the briefing room. Though Rude was senior to Reno, it was Reno who headed the meeting as the other Turk's communication skills were often rather poor. Still, Rude made up for his short-coming by being exceptionally good at the leg work and marksmanship required of a Turk.

Reno inserted a data card into a terminal and pulled up a profile on the suspect. "He worked alone, but made no secret as to what he'd done to a number of locals. These are the easiest kinds of gunmen to go after. They lack a certain intelligence owned by criminal masterminds. They're usually disturbed, mentally unstable, and in some cases suicidal. They like to make waves in the sea of life around them then drown in the current, satisfied that they'd made at least one day's headlines."

"Art Howard. He's a nobody," said Elena looking at the profile on screen. "No criminal record. Not significant in anyway."

"There's always a first time. Rude, do you have the ballistics report?"

"Low velocity, lead bullet shot from a .22 caliber hand pistol. I found no information that could identify the barrel's signature, so we can't trace the gun to its owner."

Reno snorted. "The owner doesn't matter." He tapped the monitor screen. "This guy was very conspicuous about what he'd done. Rather foolish, if not suicidal."

"Hey," said Elena. "If that's what he wants, we'll give it to him."

Reno shook his head. "He's getting it whether he wants it or not. And if it's a game of his demented mind, it's gonna come to a quick end."

"Bullets like this are designed to expand on impact. If he was aiming for the president's chest…" Rude left it off there, but they'd all figured it out.

Reno pulled the data card out and clicked off the monitor. "It's a big city. A big world. But something tells me he hasn't gone far. Jokers like that retreat to the slums and boast about their accomplishments and no one bats an eye down there since most of 'em are guilty of numerous crimes as well."

"But Mr. Howard lives on the plate level. Would he go to the slums?" asked Elena, her rookie status surfacing again.

"I want this guy reeled in and served on a platter for Tseng when he walks back in here in a day or two. We're Turks, Elena, and we always get our man."

= = = =

Tseng walked into the office under his own power on the third day after he'd been shot. Greeting him were 3 exhausted Turks with bloodshot eyes, and he could tell it was from hard work and not excessive alcohol this time.

He sat down stiffly, his healing leg protesting from the long walk from the parking garage. He still had one more day of materia therapy, the couple-day method being far more effective at regenerating properly toned tissue than the one-shot option.

Reno hesitantly reported his team's failure to bring Art Howard in for questioning and subsequent execution. Tseng didn't let the disappointing news ruffle him. Reno lead the presentation of reports to his superior, allowing the others to interject their own input in the areas they themselves were focusing on.

"And from the looks of things," said Tseng, "you've all been pulling double shifts to get it done. Get some rest, all of you. I'll continue browsing the reports and leads you turned in."

The three weary Turks dragged off to the sleeping room set aside in their office space for those times they couldn't afford to waste precious time commuting to work on the freeway.

Tseng engrossed himself in his reading absently massaging the magically sealed up wound in his thigh. The only sounds surrounding him were the hums of the building's ventilation system. It was two hours before he realized he could really use a good cup of coffee.

He padded quietly into the kitchen though he knew darn well his footsteps couldn't be heard in the sleep room. He was startled to find Reno slouched at a table apparently reading a newspaper. His hair was a mess and his clothes, as usual, were in similar disarray.

"What are you doing here?" Tseng asked. "Can't sleep? You can take some pills for that, you know?"

Reno shook his head, lazily propping it up by leaning his cheek tiredly on one hand. He was wearing just socks with no shoes, thus why perhaps he'd managed to sneak into the kitchen without Tseng hearing him.

"I really need you to rest," said Tseng, fixing himself some instant coffee with every intention to physically carry Reno off and sedate him if need be.

Reno turned the page, looking like his arm hardly had the strength to do it. The ballpoint pen in his hand absently drew a moustache, beard, and glasses on a print of a man and woman which was obviously taken at a photographer's studio.

Tseng sat down at the table stirring sugar into his coffee, armed with a few words to convince Reno to either get back to bed or to take tranquilizers to help him sleep. Up close, the Turk's bloodshot eyes even more so reflected his awful fatigue.

"Look, Reno. I need you and the others…" his voice trailed off unexpectedly. Tseng pulled the newspaper closer and looked at the picture Reno had vandalized yet was too tired to get amusement out of. "It's him!" Tseng's finger thudded onto the page below the picture where the caption spelled out Art Howard's name. The woman was said to be his fiancée and below was a brief wedding announcement.

Reno's sleepy eyes perked up to Tseng's excitement.

"At the Sector 7 Church of Promises the day after tomorrow. Careless indeed." Tseng pat Reno on the shoulder and stood up. "Come on. You and the others have plenty of time to rest up. We'll stop off at the Med Room and get you some tranquilizers. By the time you three have gotten your rest, I'll have all the plans drawn up for our hit."

= = = =

"I've taken into account the possibility that we're being lead into a trap," Tseng told in his briefing to the Turks the next day. "This man's personality profile, however, is strongly suggesting that he's basically a thoughtless idiot who's disillusioned into thinking he's unseen or untouchable. Regretfully, if the profile is correct, our mission is going to be rather easy. Perhaps not even befitting the end of the tale about an attempted assassination of President Rufus."

"And if he's more clever than we thought?" asked Reno.

"Then we'll have a little more fun doing it."

"Should we perhaps wait until after they say their vows, this way the poor wife can collect survivor benefits?" Elena asked, always looking out for the other half.

Tseng shrugged. "If it's possible, I don't see why not." He pushed the paper files aside. "You can all have the rest of the day off. Have fun, relax, but no drinking. We'll assemble at 0600 tomorrow."

The Turks got up together and eagerly stepped out of Tseng's office for some much needed free time, leaving their boss behind to stay on call and to report their confirmed intentions to Heidegger and Rufus.

= = = =

Rude wanted to be left alone. Elena wanted company. Against his better judgement, Reno sighed and invited Elena to tag along with him on a stroll through the commercial district of Sector 4. He felt like he was baby sitting as the rookie cooed at shop windows displaying the latest plush animal craze aimed at the younger audience. She also insisted on getting an ice cream cone and a hot pretzel obviously dragged through a salt mine before being vended on the street.

Reno was content with just a latte to go from a rather premier coffee shop along the way. A flashy pink neon sign hovered over the basement entrance way to a Tarot and _Tsayer_ Card Reader's shop.

"Oooh, Reno! Let's stop in and have our fortunes read!" Elena said excitedly, clutching his left arm.

"Elena, if we want our fortunes read we can just go see Daniel Reeve."

"Aw, come on…" Elena tugged his arm. "We all know he either makes 'em up on the spot or reads 'em from the nearest fortune cookie on his desk."

"And this place is gonna be any different?"

By then they'd descended the steps to the building's sublevel, and Elena was pulling open the door. The place obviously staffed so-called psychics 24 hours a day. The gypsy woman was the only one presently inside, smoking something Reno was fairly sure was illegal.

"Welcome, Reno of the Turks…" said the woman from her fortress of pastel scarves and gold bangles that passed as her outfit.

Elena bounced on her feet. "See, Reno! She's a real psychic! She even knows your name!"

Reno's eyes narrowed. "No, she knows me because a year ago before you were one of us, I had to hit her up on some tax evasion charges."

"But that's in the past, Dah-ling…" she said, her hand fluidly waving them to the gaudy table complete with a crystal ball.

"Oh, go on, Reno! Let's hear your fortune!" Elena gave him a light shove in her direction.

"Me? It was your idea to come in here… Besides, she's likely not to be too nice to me given what happened in the past."

"Sit, Reno of the Turks. The cards are indiscriminate." She squared up a deck of Tsayer cards, a new fad to rival the antiquated Tarot cards.

Reluctantly, the Turk sat down across from the fortune teller. She handed him the deck and asked him to draw three random cards. Once placed on the table, the woman turned them over to reveal them.

Gemini, the Ram, and the Joker.

"Very interesting combination!" she marveled. "And powerful!"

Reno squinted, memory reminding him that fortune tellers merely plant seeds in the mind that play out as self-fulfilled prophecies, nothing more. Elena, on the other hand, was riveted to what there was to say about the card trio.

"The Gemini Card indicates repetition in your life. Something that has happened or will happen will happen again some time very soon."

Reno's brow creased slightly thinking over the recent profound events in his life. The attempted assassination of President Rufus and the resulting gunshot wound suffered by Turks' leader, Tseng, called out the loudest in his memory. But then his mind's lips smiled a bit when he thought about the recent all-nighter he had at the Honey Bee Inn.

"The Ram symbolizes conflict or battle. But, given your occupation, that shouldn't be surprising."

It was too late, as the Ram's horns head-butted the thought of another night at the Honey Bee out of Reno's head.

"The Joker…is very ambiguous. It's unpredictable uncertainty is hard to read into, so be prepared for anything!"

They walked out of there silently as Reno assured himself that she had no mystical powers what so ever. The interpretation of the Joker was so vague that it must be a teller's way of dodging having to say anything as it would only plant the seed into someone's mind that if anything at all happened to them, it was the joker's fault. And in everybody's lives, things happen. He shook his head and realized that Elena had been yakking for the past several seconds.

"Yeah, whatever…" he said plainly, and they continued on to the next kiosk where Elena bought a half a pound of jelly beans.

= = = =

Tseng addressed his crew again in the morning the next day. "Though the least conspicuous method would probably be to poison something our target would eat or drink, it's not so easy to pull off in an environment where there are lots of people and lots of edibles to chose from. Therefore, we're gonna have to do it the bloody way."

They all knew what that would mean, even as Tseng stood there silently, looking at all their faces for signs of disapproval, particularly from Reno.

"I have a lot of faith in all of you, especially as snipers," Tseng added. "I want two snipers posted in the buildings facing the church, aiming at different angles. There will be a gathering outside the steps as husband and wife exit the church and enter the limousine parked on the street. It's a short walk, and there will be many people blocking our shots. If the snipers fail, I will be at ground level myself, posing as the chauffeur. Rude will be in the driver's seat as back up. Either way, whether he's felled by snipers or myself, I will board the limo and Rude will take off. Elena and Reno, you two will meet back with us here either way."

"Won't that put you dangerously near the sniper's target?" Elena asked, her concern for Tseng very deep right now considering the bullet wound he'd recently suffered, lucky it was in the leg and not in the head or chest.

"You and Reno are superb marksmen. I trust you. If you can't get a shot in, don't worry. The other might be able to. I have a sidearm that'll take care of him, and Rude will be right there. It's a chance we have to take. This man went after President Rufus, making it no secret in some parts. He must go down before he tries again."

Weapons were issued. Tseng and Rude had their chauffeur outfits to change into, plus a date with a limousine renter who would be paid handsomely to let them borrow a car. Reno kept Elena away from Tseng for fear that her catching sight of him in the formal outfit would spark her hormones off to dangerous levels during the serious mission.

She and Reno took a fast black car out to the site with enough security features in it to keep curious passers by and potential thieves away.

Tseng was the only one who wasn't wearing a headset, meaning he wouldn't be able to hear any communication between any of the other 3 Turks. Standing out in the open as the chauffeur wouldn't look too good with a Secret Service style ear piece in plain sight. Besides, if it was that important, Rude was nearby in the driver's seat.

Reno and Elena stationed themselves in vacant rooms of separate buildings across the street from the rather low-key church. It was gonna be such an easy end to a potentially catastrophic crime. The communication lines were very silent. It was times like this that the Turks dispensed with the in-jokes, smart-assed remarks, and general babble that frequently filled their offices. Reno knew that if a naked broad walked in and stood right next to him, he'd have the discipline and control as a Turk to keep his attention fully devoted to acquiring and neutralizing the target.

Elena was really the Turks star marksman. She could out-shoot Tseng, though the margin would be extremely narrow. Reno, it was well known, didn't care for guns, but at times like this, he knew it was the best option.

A Turk's patience was put to the test again as the entire wedding ceremony went from start to finish, all the while 2 steadily leveled guns were aimed at the church doors. As if wedding ceremonies when attended in person weren't boring enough…

Finally, the wedded couple made their way outdoors, preceded by members of the wedding party, rice in hand. With Elena's skill, she could have probably shot the rice grains out of the air, but the center of the man's chest was her only focus right now. With that, she pulled the trigger, having obtained the clearest shot she could've wished for.

The hollow point bullet penetrated the man's chest the heart's level, it's soft tip rapidly expanding once inside the flesh and causing instantly fatal damage.

Tseng hurried into the back seat of the limo, and Rude burned rubber out of there even before the back door was fully shut. Up in the buildings, Reno and Elena turned sharply and flattened themselves against walls to keep them from being seen by wandering eyes. Their escape would come momentarily.

Perhaps Reno was only vaguely aware that the mental image of the Tsayer cards drawn for him the night before had flashed through his mind.

= = = =

Back at the office following what had appeared as a successful hit, the Turks relaxed. Reno was flipping cards into the hat placed down at his feet. Rude was drinking something only a few molecules away from being considered turpentine. Elena was off getting a pedicure in the mall section of the Shinra Headquarters, and Tseng was napping on a lounge chair.

A rather routine, ordinary parcel was delivered by some lowly member of the mailroom staff, and none of the Turks were particularly interested in it. They were far too busy relaxing.

"That was dull…" Reno finally said, out of cards to chuck. Rude's noxious drink was beginning to look good.

No one else seemed willing to talk. Reno got up and let curiosity get the better of him. The package was a simple 9 x 12 envelope with at most a few sheets of paper. Reno ripped it open, hoping the sound might spark some interest from the others in the room. He pulled the contents out.

"Guys…" Reno said, his voice up with concern. "We have a problem…"

Tseng had been awake for a short while and really wasn't particularly interested in what ever the petty crisis was. However, there was a static charge about it in the air that could not be ignored.

Rude and Tseng made their way over to Reno and the letter.

It was several pages long, each page scribbled in jagged, large letters in pencil lead.

__

Dear Sirs, and Lady:

Thank you for eliminating my competition for the family inheritance.

Next page.

__

I suppose you found the wedding announcement. I had it run in the paper, and I'm sure by now you've realized the little 'type-o' that was in there.

Next page.

__

How does it feel to have innocent blood on your hands?

And that was all to the 'letter'.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Reno said plainly in reaction to the last page.

"He's still alive," Tseng stated knowingly. "It was a set up."

Tseng didn't distress this time that a few hairs were out of place from his nap. The party was officially over. He made his way to the nearest computer and dug for facts.

Rude had to stop drinking now before he had too much, and Reno recalled Elena from her pampering session to join them back at base.

"He caught us with our proverbial pants down," said Tseng. "And, Reno, that's no cue for the usual visual aid."

Reno had no intention of playing off the cliché this time. He was just as focused as the others.

"We shot his brother, Jack. The two of them look a lot alike. Art just had his name inserted in the wedding announcement to lead us astray. …Damn!"

"So where is Art Howard, then?" Reno asked.

Tseng rubbed his brow, an instant headache blossoming from the inside out. "I don't know. If he had this planned, he was probably long gone out of the city days ago."

"Or…" added Rude. "He could be in the city knowing that we'd first look outside of it for him."

"That's the _other_ problem," said Tseng. "Does he have any other look-a-likes that he could bait us with? Turks don't make the same mistake twice."

Twice…

Reno thought about it too hard. The Gemini card… The Ram… The Joker… And Art Howard was laughing where ever he was. The thought burned Reno up even more. Though he didn't dare mention the coincidence between the cards and the gypsy's prediction to Tseng, as it was ultimately foolish to think that way.

"Wait a minute," said the rookie, Elena. "If he's gone through all this trouble to mislead us with his and his twin's identities, isn't it possible that he's done it on a grander scale."

As she slid behind a computer terminal, Tseng reaffirmed a possibility that he'd been considering investigating himself. "Right. So if we were going out to shoot Jack, who we thought was Art…"

"Art was an automotive collision repair specialist," said Elena. "But I'll bet we're far more interested in where _Jack_ works! I mean, worked…"

Reno leaned over Elena's other shoulder. "Well, what d'you know…Jack worked for Shinra!"

"Not the most glamorous of jobs," Elena added.

"A Midgar train conductor," Tseng read off the screen. "Who's to say that Art is currently filling Jack's shoes on the trains? He could have slipped out of the city already. Though it's our first lead and worth investigating."

"Yes!" Elena cheered. "Then all we have to do is conduct ID scans at the rail system's check points!"

"Rookie…" Reno grumbled. If she'd been a guy, he would've slapped her in the back of the head.

"Don't think for a minute that he's carrying his own, or Jack's own, legitimate ID. There's a number of people you can get pretty good fakes from, particularly in the more advanced pockets of the slums," said Tseng.

"Must be a pretty good fake," said Elena. "Shinra employees must be accounted for with ID cards. Any train caught with one less would set off alarms." She turned back to the screen. "Hmm…let's see if there are any seemingly 'new' employees on the Midgar trains within the past week." The others waited anxiously. "No… Hmm…. Past two weeks? Ah, there's two of 'em! No Jacks or Arts, though."

"Great," Tseng said with little emotion.

"And they both run on the same train. Well, typically. They both mostly run on the number 2, but each served on the number 5 for one day…the same day…same shift…"

"An accomplice?" Reno wondered. "Are they on the train now?"

"We could activate the car-by-car scan."

"No," Tseng interjected right away. "Normal checkpoints are one thing, but running a detailed scan for unauthorized passengers would alert our possible suspects. We'll have to go there personally. Bear in mind that it's possible that these new conductors are completely innocent."

"We can check their histories right here!" Elena started tapping the keyboard. "If they don't have pasts, or very hazy ones…"

"Rookie…" This time Reno did whap her playfully.

"Hey!!"

"Professional grade false ID's would trace back to someone with a very detailed past, even if entirely made up," Tseng reminded her. "No point checking. Let's just get moving."

= = = =

The problem with chasing someone on a moving train was that if they jumped out and survived the landing relatively intact, the train would have moved on quite a distance before any of the Turks would be able to jump out and pursue the target on foot. And the last time they had to resort to that, Reno broke two bones in his arm from a poor landing.

The four Turks split up in the area surrounding the train station as they waited for the train they wanted. Standard ID checks indicated that the wanted party was on board, probably posing as a conductor in place of his late twin brother.

The main problem while the train was stopped at the end-of-the-line station, the Turks had to get on board without being seen by the specific conductor that would be their target. Without a detailed ID scan, they would be unable to determine who was in which car.

Elena would board the train in an eye-catching bright pink outfit like a small town glamour girl in the big city. Her feathery boa concealed a hand pistol holstered under her arm, and her platform-soled boots contained a hidden dagger. Reno slicked his hair back with the strong-holding brand of mousse that Cloud Strife endorsed. A baseball cap, dirty t-shirt (pulled straight from his laundry basket at home), and super-baggy jeans made him look ten years younger.

Rude's reluctance to remove his sunglasses made disguising him much harder. It was an emotional thing with him held so sacred that each Turk learned only to ask him about it once. He and Tseng were the main body guards of President Rufus, and were the ones always seen in public with him. A fake beard, wig, and change of clothes were about the best they could do to hide Rude's identity.

Tseng would be entering the train once it began moving, and all the conductors were inside their cars. The station's dark ceiling hid him well as he laid on top of a passenger car in black jeans and t-shirt, waiting for the train to depart.

Elena strutted onto the train, waving one end of her boa at the nearest conductor, drawing attention perhaps away from Reno and Rude as they made their way on board.

The train departed without unusual disturbance. The Turks occupied one car a piece, their 'scripts' in mind and their watches synchronized. Above the front car, Tseng's hands tightly gripped holds on the roof, yellow glasses over his eyes to deflect wind and debris.

Reno looked down at his watch. It was his cue. He stood up and seemed uneasy stabilizing himself in the rocking rear car as though he'd never been on a train before. He made his way to the front of the car quietly, timing his last couple steps to wait for a slightly harder jerk of the train car. When he felt one, he let his feet stumble a step farther to collide into the conductor.

The conductor turned and caught him. Only then could Reno see the man's face. It was a young, clear-eyed man, and definitely not the one they were looking for.

"Are you okay, sir?" the polite conductor asked as Reno straightened up, holding onto the rail.

"Yeah…" Reno mumbled and walked into the next car. He forgot to not look for Rude's bald head, so it took him a while longer to spot his fellow Turk in the next car. Rude saw Reno coming, and got up before the young man approached.

Rude walked to the front of the car where that car's conductor stood.

"Excuse me, do you serve drinks on this train?" he asked the conductor, getting the red-suited man to turn and face him.

"How far d'ya think this train goes!?" the less polite man snapped. "Y'can wait til we get where we're goin'. Plenty o' bars in the slums."

Rude kept going and entered the car in front of that one where Elena was supposed to be. She was there alright, several young boys eyeing her, daring each other to be the one to approach her first. She pretended to be amused.

Rude walked up to the boys sitting across the aisle from Elena and glared at them for seemingly no reason. While they froze at the sight staring them down behind dark shades, Elena got up and made her way to the front of the car. She flitted past the conductor, making eye contact while waving her boa. He was definitely not the one. She kept going.

Reno entered the back end of that car as Elena exited. He saw Rude standing in the aisle. There was only one more car on the train, so they knew where the wanted conductor was. Reno slumped down in a seat as far away from other people as he could. He got out his cell phone and called Tseng. The voice went into Tseng's earpiece telling him where to make his grand entrance.

Rude had taken a seat across from the pesky boys that were staring at Elena. Reno tucked his phone away and walked back the way he'd come. He waited in the sealed vestibule between cars where he quickly stripped off his obstructive baggy pants and hat. Underneath, he wore snug black jeans and a holster with his electro-mag rod and sidearm. Rude turned his head every few seconds to see when the face appeared in the small window in the vestibule door. Finally, he caught sight of Reno looking back at him. Rude shifted slowly to get out of his seat as Reno threw the door open, sidearm drawn. He sprinted through the car while Rude hurried to the front of the car as well and through the next vestibule into the front car, weapon also drawn.

The conductor was facing their way silently eyeing the lady in pink. When he spotted the mad rush into the car, he turned to run out the door in front of the car and drew a knife in one smooth move. Yeah, it was him, the Turks thought to themselves. Elena had a hard time remaining seated, but she was backup for this hit.

Before Art Howard could reach the door, it opened, and Tseng was there with his Magnum .45 drawn.

The other passengers in the car, except for Elena, vacated as soon as the violence broke out. Most people who regularly rode the Midgar trains were accustomed to such things.

Adrenaline-fueled and determined to prevail, Art plunged the knife into Tseng's gun arm shoulder.

As Tseng dropped his weapon, Reno and Rude were closing in. Their target stepped over Tseng and reached for the door to escape. Reno's long arm held his electro-mag rod far in front of him, all charged up and ready to strike. A piercing shock distracted the man from opening the door.

Tseng stood up, his left hand thrusting upward and gripping the man by the neck in a suffocating death grip. The small knife fell from Art's hand and clattered to the floor next to Tseng's Magnum. Art clawed at Tseng to get him to release him. His thumb found the warm, moist area of Tseng's shoulder and pressed into his wound. Tseng's will was strong, his eyes squinting to overcome the agony. Rude's solid fist entered the picture, clubbing a disorienting blow to the side of Art's head.

Tseng let the man go, the severe pain in his right shoulder numbing most the rest of his body.

Art staggered backwards until he fell into the door behind him, his shaken body starting to slump. Rude delivered a deadly uppercut into the man's face that would make even a champion boxer cringe. The body fell to the floor with a solid thump, the nose bloodied and flattened. Broken nasal bones had been pushed up and into the front lobe of the brain, but just to be sure, Rude fired a shot through the man's heart.

Elena, in all her flamboyant attire, approached the scene. Reno knelt down to help Tseng up. He turned his head to the body slumped next to them.

"Gee, Rude. Leave something to identify him by," Reno said, eyeing one of the worst cases of facial trauma he'd ever seen in his entire life, even for a Turk.

Tseng was on the verge of going into shock. Reno retrieved the Magnum and lifted his boss into a seat.

"We've gotta turn this train around and get him somewhere for treatment," Reno said, examining the profusely bleeding knife wound.

"At this stage, we're almost at our destination," said Rude.

"In the Sector 7 slums!" Reno reminded him. "They don't have hospitals down there, just morgues and cemeteries."

"Damn it, Reno! It's not that bad," said Elena, pushing her way in with some Cure Materia to stabilize Tseng until they could commandeer the train and force it back to plate level.

= = = =

Tseng woke up from his second surgery in two weeks to the familiar child's bedroom setting of his hospital room. Flowers, balloons, and Reno and Elena at the far end waiting for him to wake up. As they saw him try to move, they got up and flanked his bed. Elena was grinning happily as usual, and Reno was looking just marginally concerned.

"Ugh…" Tseng tested his voice out weakly. His right shoulder was hot with pain. "So, here we are again…"

Elena put her hands comfortingly on his left arm. The lights were bright, and Tseng's narrow eyes squinted even more. Bandages looped around his chest and shoulder, covering the sutured knife wound.

"You're picking up bad habits from me," said Reno, the backs of his fingers lightly grazing the thick bandages over the wound.

"Still don't believe in Tsayer cards?" Tseng asked.

Reno shook his head. "I can't start believing in them now. They could make fortune cards with candy canes and gum drops on 'em, and the gypsies would still find ways to tell you your future with 'em."

Elena bent down and kissed Tseng on the cheek. "Maybe you shouldn't hurry back this time."

Tseng lifted his good arm and lightly brushed aside a lock of her blonde hair. "You'd miss me too much."

"Whoah…maybe I should leave the two of you alone!" Reno stepped back. Elena shook her head. "Well, me and Rude are gonna go out to celebrate our real victory this time."

"And, Reno…!" Tseng called after him.

"Yeah, I know… We can't get drunk when the boss is out…" Reno left Elena and Tseng alone. Later that night for kicks, Reno brought Rude to a Tsayer card reader.

****

THE END

Written by the infamous Zeng Li. The characters and places referenced in this story are copyrighted material belonging to Squaresoft, Ltd. This original story is © 2002 and is intended only for free entertainment purposes only.


End file.
